


Greek Holiday

by phoenixgal



Series: Scenes from a Life [16]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bisexual Male Character, Disabled Character, F/M, Greece, Pansexual Character, Polyamory, Pranks and Practical Jokes, Queer Het, Vacation, metamours
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-27
Updated: 2017-08-27
Packaged: 2018-12-20 08:56:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11917491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phoenixgal/pseuds/phoenixgal
Summary: Harry ends up taking Julianna on holiday with Ron and Hermione instead of Ginny. Hijinks ensue, then feelings.





	Greek Holiday

**Author's Note:**

> I know that most people aren't especially interested in reading about OC's, but Jules really wormed her way into my head. Sorry, dear reader, but I'm afraid I have like four Jules centered Harry/Ginny stories in this series now sitting in my WIP folder.

Jules waved her wand at the prosthetics and grinned as the magic settled and molded itself to her legs. “In maybe another decade, I'll get used to that,” she said, carefully standing up. It always seemed to take her a few minutes to regain her balance. But just a moment later, stretching her knees, she gave a little jump and grabbed the messenger bag from the chair, slinging it over her shoulder and brushing her pink hair back. “What are you waiting for, slowpoke? Let's go.”

Harry shrugged. He knew this was going to be interesting. Jules had been at times frighteningly depressed in the months after her accident and now that she had legs again, albeit magical prosthetics, she was sometimes frighteningly overenthusiastic, as if she could make up for her lost year if only she was excited enough. Ginny said it reminded her a little of when she first met Jules, when she was new to England and just more cheerful and wild than anyone else. Harry hadn't known her very well back in those days, so he just nodded, hoping it was all going to even out eventually.

Harry grabbed his own small suitcase and picked up the mug of coffee from the side table, draining it all the way and following her downstairs to the Floo, where she had apparently already gone through.

Bracing himself, he followed her. “Portkey terminal,” he shouted through the powder.

The terminal, set along the Underground, was on the new side, but seemed to be a better way to organize magical travel than any of the previous attempts and Harry knew Hermione was hopeful that it would stick. It was a great deal better than unauthorized portkeys all over the place, which had been a headache a few years back, before the Ministry decided to come down more strictly on their unauthorized use and provide a central location for international travel.

It looked like Jules was getting a bit of breakfast from the cart, but Harry spied Ron and Hermione sitting on a bench. Hermione had her head in a stack of papers and Ron was playing with some sort of spinning toy that he kept balancing on his finger and then carefully placing midair.

“Is she going to spend the whole trip working?” Harry asked.

“No, she is not,” Hermione said sharply, though she didn't look up from her papers.

Ron chuckled and then looked around. “Where's Julianna?”

Harry waved behind him to the queue for the food cart.

“Too bad Ginny couldn't make it,” Ron said. His voice was light, but Harry thought perhaps he was more annoyed than he was letting on. They had arranged this trip for the four of them and then Ginny unexpectedly got an offer to coach for the Harpies.

“Chance of a lifetime to do any level of coaching for the professionals,” Harry said. He was thrilled for her, so thrilled that he didn't question for a moment that she should miss this trip to Greece. But when she had suggested he take someone else, then he had started to question. He wished Neville had been available, but Neville had some fancy grant to cultivate some magical plant that Harry had listened to him talk about for a full hour while somehow retaining absolutely nothing about it.

“Well, we'll miss her,” Hermione said, “but it was obviously a good call on her part. And a chance to get to know your friend better.” She didn't look up from whatever she was reading.

“So, what are you working on?” Harry asked.

Ron shook his head to indicate that he shouldn't ask, but Hermione didn't see him. “Well, it's the legislation on magical education, now that you ask. And I just...”

Harry felt an arm reach around him and he smelled Jules's familiar spicy scent mixed with coffee. She rested her chin on his shoulder and peered down at Ron and Hermione.

“I thought we weren't allowing work on vacation,” she observed, interrupting Hermione mid-sentence.

“Yes, well,” Hermione said. “I just need to read through these before...”

But before any of them realized what was happening, Jules's redwood wand was out pointed toward Hermione's papers, which vanished in a little poof of air.

“Why would… what in…?” Hermione sputtered, looking down at her empty hands.

“Rules are meant to be followed,” Jules said, very seriously, then laughed and began walking toward the dented candlestick that was to be the first leg of their trip. “I think our portkey leaves in a sec.”

Harry felt Hermione's eyes shooting proverbial hexes at him as she rose to join Jules. Ron raised his eyebrows. No one messed with Hermione. She was going to be Minister of Magic in another year when Kingsley finally retired. Everyone knew it. Everyone except Jules apparently, who was draining her coffee while twirling her unusual, old wand next to their portkey.

Harry grimaced slightly. This was going to be interesting.

* * *

As they checked into the tiny guesthouse a few hours later, the witch at the desk asked through a translation spell if they were fine with two rooms with double sized beds.

“Actually, if you have a room with two single beds, that might be preferable,” Hermione said.

“Ron, I think your wife might not want you in her bed,” Jules staged whispered.

“No, I only meant...” Hermione began.

“Preferable for who, then?” Jules asked. “Harry and I deeply in love.” She drew out the word dramatically and threw her arms around him, leaning her weight into him and kissing his ear.

“Well, I didn't mean...” Hermione looked embarrassed. She turned back to the witch. “Double beds is fine.”

Ron sniggered slightly and Harry rolled his eyes, though when Jules leaned in for a proper kiss on the lips once Hermione had turned back around, he didn't push her away. He was used to kissing Jules good morning or hello, used to the comforting affection that she offered so freely.

He tried to ignore the look Hermione was giving them as they made their way to the steep staircase.

* * *

The magical agora was fascinating and Harry kept getting distracted by the different sights. One shop sold multiple means of flight, including magic carpets, brooms, shimmering wings that attached to your arms, and even small ships that were spelled to float amongst the clouds. A creature shop was filled with animals rarely seen in England if ever. A sweet shop had baklava in a dizzying array of flavors all imbued with magical essences.

“Sorry,” Harry apologized to Jules, as she pulled him away from staring at a sort of miniature sphinx walking the street.

“Muggle raised,” she teased.

“Like Ron's doing any better,” Harry said, pointing to Ron, who was staring at a poster featuring singing sirens.

“He's just not traveled enough,” Jules said dismissively as they approached Ron. “I dated a woman who was part siren once,” Jules said, pulling him away from the poster as Hermione looked at her husband, annoyed. “She was more trouble than she was worth though. It didn't end well.”

“How many people have you dated?” Ron asked, shaking off the effects of the poster.

“Thousands, darling,” Jules said with an affected air. “Millions.”

Harry chuckled, but he noted that Hermione looked uncomfortable.

* * *

The ruins underneath the agora were even more spectacular that the market above. Hermione paid for them to have a tour.

“It's fun to be a tourist,” she said. “We haven't been anywhere in years other than to Hogwarts and back.”

Harry was inclined to agree. He had learned to find history interesting, even reading about it for pleasure whenever he managed to find a wizarding author who wasn't a complete bore on the subject since most of them seemed to have been schooled by Professor Binns. 

But he noticed that the enclosed space didn't sit well with Jules. Half an hour into the tour, she looked like she was going to hyperventilate. There was something in Harry that clicked and said, this is what I look like when I'm about to completely go over the edge.

“Can we apparate out?” Harry asked the guide, a teenage witch with brightly painted nails and an indeterminate accent that suggested maybe she was a recent Beauxbatons graduate in her first job.

“Sorry, no, sir,” she said. “The magic is much too layered down here.”

“What do you want to leave for?” Ron asked.

“I don't really,” Harry said.

He reached over and grabbed Jules's hand and gripped it. “All right?”

“Fuck off,” she said, looking down at her legs, which he could only hope weren't giving her any trouble.

Harry debated what to say next, but then she squeezed his hand and they kept walking.

Hermione seemed mostly oblivious. She was engaged in talking to a German scholar who was there on vacation with his wife. There was a great deal of nodding and agreement and oohing and aahing over the various pillars and archaeological displays as they passed them.

As they emerged into the early evening twilight, Hermione looked exhilarated in a way that she hadn't looked in ages.

“Note to self,” Ron said to Harry. “Take Hermione out to learn new things every once in awhile.”

“Do you know, there was a time I thought I could never get enough of magical law?” Hermione said. “But now I can't remember the last time I learned anything else. That was wonderful. The things about the first organized magical governance were fascinating, of course, but the ancient magical theatre! Can you imagine what it must have been like back then? All those floating lanterns and charmed pyrotechnics? It sounded amazing.”

“It sounded boring,” Jules complained. “I'd rather go to the no-maj movies or out clubbing. Blah blah blah dead people.” She stalked off away from the small tourist crowd emerging from the underground. Harry noticed her limp and wondered if her legs were bothering her again.

Hermione looked a cross between annoyed and hurt, but she crossed her arms and asked brightly about dinner.

* * *

Harry knew that the only way to deal with an unhappy Jules was to give her space. Using funny Americanisms was always a sign that Jules, who hadn't lived in the States since she was just out of school, was in a mood. 

Dinner, which was an array of meats and sauces that Harry couldn't put a name to, but which tasted amazing, started much calmer than he had anticipated. Jules ate quietly while they all talked.

“I'm looking forward to the beach for the rest of the trip,” Hermione said. “I have a shelf of books three feet long in my bag that I'm dying to get to. Most of them are for pleasure.”

“I have a few books to read,” Ron said with a shrug. “Muggle books mostly, but by a wizard press.”

Harry choked down a snort of laughter. He knew the rebranding of muggle books was a side business Ron had fallen into that Hermione knew nothing about.

“I brought some science fiction book Al sent me from America,” Harry said.

“What about you, Julianna?” Hermione asked.

“I don't like to read,” Jules said offhandedly.

Hermione contained a small offended sound. She prided herself on being open-minded, but Harry supposed it only went so far.

“When was the last time we traveled together anyway?” Ron asked, hastily changing the subject.

“Don't answer that,” Harry said quickly.

“We've traveled together since then,” Hermione said.

“Camping with the kids that summer,” Ron said.

“The year we did summer at Shell Cottage,” Hermione added.

“The summer we went to Romania together to see Charlie when you thought maybe Albus might have a knack for dragons.”

“A dragon would eat Al alive,” Jules observed.

“It very nearly did,” Ron said.

Harry shook his head. All of those times were years before, when the kids were younger. Now they were all out of the house. Where did the time go?

* * *

In their room with one double bed, Harry sat on the edge trying to figure out what to say to Julianna. He wished Ginny were there. Not even necessarily instead of Jules, though after the day they'd had, he had to admit that he wouldn't have minded it. He wished she was there to manage Jules. He wasn't sure he even knew how or fully understood what was bothering her so much.

She sat next to him, wearing boxer shorts and an old t-shirt for some muggle band of women holding electric guitars.

“Do you want...” Harry started to ask about taking off her legs, but she interrupted him.

“Do you think they can hear us through the walls?” she asked, looking at the wall that divided their room from Ron and Hermione's.

“Probably if we're loud,” Harry said. “Why?”

For the next fifteen minutes, Harry was treated to Jules's rendition of enthusiastic sex, which started out slightly eyerolling, but ended up with him giving in by laughing and then finally by grabbing her and wrestling her away from the wall so that Ron and Hermione wouldn't hear some of the things she was saying.

“Isn't that enough?” he asked.

“No,” she said, but after one more, “Oh, Harry!” she stopped.

“You're preposterous,” Harry said.

“Made you laugh.”

“Take off your legs,” Harry pleaded. “I know they're bothering you.”

Jules spelled the prosthetics so that their glamour was removed and then undid their charms and laid back in the bed, looking exhausted. It had been a long day.

Ten minutes later, as he massaged up her thighs and to the muscles that went from arse to back, Jules really did moan happily and Harry teased her, laughing at her earlier fake noises again.

* * *

In the morning, with their bags mostly repacked, Harry emerged outside to the little courtyard where breakfast awaited them and smiled at Ron and Hermione, already seated at one of the tables.

“Good morning,” he said.

A blush rose on Hermione's cheeks and she stood up, saying something about getting more yogurt and fruit. That was when Harry remembered Jules's antics of the night before.

“Oh, fuck, the walls,” Harry said, sitting down.

Ron sniggered.

“It wasn't…” Harry started, then groaned in frustration.

“I'm sitting here not judging, mate,” Ron said, lifting his hands slightly. “It sounded very enthusiastic and enjoyable.”

“I don't know who I want to strangle more, Jules for being so purposefully obnoxious or Hermione for falling for every single thing Jules does to get her goat. She was faking it all, by the way,” Harry said. “We don't ever have sex. Or, er… not like that.” Trying to explain what sex was like with three people in a bed seemed too much for Harry to try and tackle without just increasing his discomfort.

For a moment, Ron pulled a face and then he broke out in guffaws. “Right. I did wonder.”

“Jules is upset about something,” Harry said. “But she won't talk to me and she's taking it out on Hermione.”

“By making fake shagging sounds through the wall?” Ron asked.

Harry shrugged and gestured to the tight smile Hermione was wearing as she came back without more yogurt.

“Yeah, I see what you mean,” Ron said.

* * *

The island had a small magical settlement at the edge of a larger muggle town. Like the muggle town, it mostly catered to tourists visiting the area. Harry was thrilled by the view. A patio that was clearly magically reinforced hung over the edge of a short cliff and provided a vista of the rocks and houses below, as well as the glittering sea.

Now they could spend the rest of the week swimming and having long lie ins, not to mention eating more Greek food. Harry wished Ginny could have come, but he looked over at Jules and saw that at least she looked happy and relaxed.

When Harry, Ron, and Hermione got back from a walk along the seashore that Jules hadn't wanted to join them for, Hermione immediately headed for her stack of books. Picking the first one up and sitting on the lounging chair on the patio with it, she suddenly sputtered and put it back down. Harry watched as she examined each book in turn, a furious blush rising on her pale brown skin.

Slamming the books down, she stood up. “Julianna!” she said, accusingly.

Harry looked with dismay at where Jules was sitting on the edge of the patio, her prosthetic legs dangling off the end, playing with a little flying toy.

“I thought it might spice up your reading,” Jules said with a shrug. She caught the little toy and shoved it in her pocket. Then, pulling out her wand, she waved it over toward Hermione's stack of books. She stood up. “I'm going for a swim,” she announced, heading out to the path and down the steps toward the rocky beach.

It was like trying to manage Jamie when he was little and in his miniature prankster phase, Harry thought. At least James had grown out of it.

“What did she do?” Harry asked, not sure he even wanted to know. Ron was standing just inside the doorway, also looking curious, but afraid to ask.

“She charmed all the books to be… romances,” Hermione said. “With rather colorful… er… language.” She was carefully looking through all of them, checking that they'd been put right again. “And moving illustrations,” she added under her breath.

Harry suppressed a laugh and looked over at Ron, whose eyebrows were raised.

“I don't even know what spell she could have used,” Hermione muttered as she cautiously opened her book again. “That must have been rather complex magic, but...” She shook her head.

* * *

Harry found Jules on their second afternoon at the little wizarding cafe, talking to a rather fit blond bloke who turned out to be American.

“Is old Fairfax still head of Thunderbird?” she was asking as Harry walked up.

The man looked like he was just a few years out of school, perhaps about Albus's age. “Yep,” he said.

“Morgan, he was old when I was in Thunderbird!” Jules roared. “Harry, meet Jacob, a recent graduate from my old house.”

Ilvermorny houses, Harry thought, with a sigh. Both Jules and Ginny seemed to have an attachment to their alma maters that Harry no longer felt the same way toward Hogwarts as he had grown up.

Jacob gave Harry a wide smile. “Pleased to meet you,” he said with an unmistakable grin.

“Stop that.” Jules actually slapped him. “He's too old for you.”

Harry, who had still said nothing to this exchange, gave them both his mild, blank face.

“Show Harry your jewelry,” Jules said.

Jacob removed a simple striped ring from his thumb and laid it on the table. “My friend and I invented it at Ilvermorny,” he said. “We're trying to figure out how to market it. I came to Europe to visit some distant relatives and I'm going to France tomorrow to meet with an investor.” As he explained how the ring detected the sexual preferences of people around you, Harry began to chuckle.

“You've invented actual magical gaydar.”

“The trick will be to keep it from all the horrid homophobes out there. There's still enough of them in the magic world,” Jacob said.

Harry nodded, his head sorting through the possibilities. The three of them kept chatting and Harry saw that Jules was cheerful. Jacob told them about some fad for drinks laced with truth serums in America and about his travels in Italy, where he'd seen his distant relatives. He also mentioned that there was a decent club in the muggle village that was worth their time. “All ages of queers,” Jacob said happily.

“Let's go,” Jules said as she and Harry walked back up the steps to their rental.

Harry was inclined to agree. He hadn't been out dancing and to a proper gay pub just for the sake of going in awhile, but mostly he was glad Jules was finally happy enough that she was thinking about something other than poking fun at Hermione.

When they walked in the house, eager for supper, they found Hermione fuming. The minute they walked in, she stormed out to the patio.

“Oh, I forgot about the other set of books,” Jules said and Harry suppressed a groan. She was going to drive him mad.

* * *

Harry brought up their plans with Ron and Hermione somewhat carefully. “Jules and I thought we'd go out tomorrow night. There's a pub up in the muggle town that we'd like to go see.”

“We don't have plans for tomorrow,” Hermione said. “We could all go.”

“Right,” Harry said. “Well, you don't have to. It was really more of a Jules and I thing. Not that you wouldn't be welcome to tag along...”

“Muggle pub. Muggle pints,” Ron said. “I'd be up for that.”

“Right,” Harry said again. “See, the thing is...”

“It's a gay bar,” Jules said bluntly. “Come at your own risk.” She shrugged and walked back up the beach.

“Er… It is,” Harry said. “But I meant it when I said you're welcome to come. In fact, do come. I'm mostly going to play wingman for Jules. It'll be fun. It's a tourist town and there's supposed to be quite a scene. It'll be a Friday night. You can see me make a fool of myself dancing if Jules manages to get a few pints in me.”

Ron and Hermione exchanged a look that Harry found hard to read. But then Hermione nodded. “Just for a bit maybe,” she said.

Harry breathed a sigh of relief. It was all still awkward being this out to everyone since Jules had moved in with them. Bad habits of secrecy were hard to break.

* * *

The club didn't disappoint. It was a brilliant mix of tourists and locals, speaking a dozen languages, of which the thrumming techno in the background was apparently the lingua franca. Harry hadn't frequented places like this in a few years, not since he'd started seeing Neville more regularly. Part of him screamed that he was too old, but then Jules grabbed his hand and pulled him in and it all came back and he felt a thrill of cheerfulness of being in such a totally queer space, dampened only by his nervousness about having Ron and Hermione there.

They ordered drinks and Harry found them a small table off the dance floor. But Jules almost immediately dragged him off toward two very butch women who were chatting on the opposite end of the space.

They turned out to be Danish, but with good English. They were friends, on vacation. They talked for a little while, had more drinks and Harry began to feel the buzz of the alcohol in his blood. Harry implored them to tend to Jules for a bit, because his friends were far too straight for her, a statement that made Jules grin and only made Harry feel mildly guilty.

He really meant to get back to Ron and Hermione, but he got waylaid on the dance floor, first by a bloke who gave him such a serious eyefuck as he crossed that he ended up flirting wordlessly for a little while, and then by a bloke who was far too young for him, but who seemed determined to throw himself at him. Harry was amused and flattered, but finally ended up pressing the young man against one of the columns at the edge of the floor, an action that made his dark eyes almost sparkle. He kissed him, but then leaned into his ear and said he'd need to find someone else to play with for the night.

It wasn't until he released him that he realized Ron was at the edge of the floor, watching. Harry took a deep breath and joined him, gesturing back toward the wall, where the music was quiet enough to talk. Ron was still holding a pint so they found a table to stand next to.

“Sorry, I haven't been a very good host,” Harry said, apologetically.

“If you, er, want to...” Ron gestured vaguely back toward the dance floor.

Harry shook his head. “Nah. Far too young. I think he was Jamie's age, don't you?”

“Well, I wasn't going to say anything,” Ron said, and Harry was relieved he was smiling.

Harry rolled his eyes. “Besides, he thinks he wants me, but he doesn't.”

“What do you mean?”

“Kid like that, hitting on an old man like me? He probably wants someone who will...” Harry trailed off. “Er… never mind.”

Ron raised his eyebrows. “One, you're not old. If you're old, I'm old. Please say we're not old. I don't feel old enough to have two kids graduated from Hogwarts. And two, he wants someone who'll what?”

Harry felt a blush rising on his cheeks. “Someone who'll fuck his brains out, I was going to say. But I'd rather the other way round.”

Ron looked at him for a moment then cast wide eyes out into the dancing crowd. “Fuck. Too much information, mate.”

“You asked.” And suddenly, instead of feeling nervous about Ron, he felt like he just got one up on him. He laughed. “Not my thing, young blokes like that. I don't want to be anyone's daddy kink. I actually am someone's dad. It's okay for a flirt on the dance floor like that, but anything more is a bit wrong to me. Neville will play their games sometimes.” Harry shrugged, remembering the last time, well over a year ago, they had gone out to a proper muggle club and not just to one of a couple of pubs they sometimes went to. Neville had spent much of the evening with a bloke Harry had later teased him was likely barely legal. Neville had countered that he was twenty-five. It was just that they were getting old.

“Stop!” Ron said, though he was clearly not really upset. “I don't think I want to know anymore.”

Harry grinned. This was all right. He suddenly didn't know why he'd been so unsure about being open with Ron for so long. Maybe in middle age you really could just let everything go. Harry certainly felt that way the last few years, since Albus had come out.

“Where's Hermione?”

“She had her one drink and wanted to walk back,” Ron said.

Harry felt his face fall. “She was uncomfortable.”

“Nah. Well, maybe a bit. I am a bit too. But you know 'Mione. She'll try anything. But maybe not anything that keeps us up past bedtime if we don't have to be.”

Harry laughed. “Let me find Jules and she how she's doing and then we'll walk back as well. Hopefully without Jules.”

“Is she, er, getting on your nerves a bit?” Ron took a final drink from his pint.

“Maybe, but I meant more that I was hoping she'd get laid. She seems rather antsy and all I can think is maybe that would do it. I wish Gin were here. She'd know what to do for her.” Harry thought about Ginny and how patient and healing everything she did was, just quietly taking care of everyone. He hoped it worked out coaching the Harpies. She would be the calmest, strongest quidditch coach ever.

“Ah,” Ron said, setting his glass back on the table.

They set out to look for Jules, but by the time they'd done a proper circle of the club, it really was getting late and they hadn't spotted her. It bothered Harry a little, but he shrugged and the two of them began the walk back down the hill and away from the village, to the little wizarding community. They could have apparated, but the breeze felt nice and Harry was a little buzzed by the dissonance of having Ron with him so they ambled along the edge of the water, past the beach, talking. Harry was floating on a cheerful feeling as they discussed their kids and muggle films and Ron's clandestine publishing business.

When they got to the little rented cottage, Harry was startled to see Hermione sitting on the heavy bench that sat at the edge of their patio overlooking the steps down to the beach, her arm around Julianna, who looked red faced and teary.

He exchanged a look with Ron, but Ron looked more baffled than him.

Harry took the steps two at a time and hurried up the uneven stones. By the time he got there, Hermione had stood up and Jules had looked away, out toward the darkness of the sea lapping at the rocks on the edge of the beach. He raised his eyebrows at Hermione.

“I happened to meet Julianna on her way out.” She didn't seem to have anything more to say, but reached an arm around Harry in a sort of half embrace. “Goodnight, Harry,” she said. “Thanks for inviting us out. It really was lovely, if a bit loud.” Harry could see her ushering Ron inside.

He sank down onto the bench where Hermione had been. “Jules?” He put his hand to her back gently.

“She's not so bad,” Jules said, her voice slightly sniffly. “Your stuck up, know it all of a friend.”

“She's not,” Harry agreed. “But I have no idea what led you to realize that now.”

“After you left me with the Danish couple, I started talking to a woman with beautiful dark eyes and it was great. I was sitting on one of those high stools in there and she was standing next to me and she… It's so stupid, Harry.” Jules turned away from the view and toward him. “She put her hand just below my knee and asked me to go dance and I just panicked. All I could think was that she wasn't touching me, she was touching some weird thing. Fucking curse. Anyway, I had to get out there there.”

“Oh, Jules. I know how it feels.”

“I know you do,” she said. She started crying in earnest, tears streaming down her face, running the makeup she had put on before going out. Her brown eyes were now streaked with black around them. Her pink tuffed hair was over her face. “Do you know that the first time I saw you have a panic attack, Harry, I though, holy shit, I'm glad that's not me.”

He reached over and brushed her hair out of her eyes and ran his thumb down her cheek. “Come inside. Let me help you get your legs off and get in bed. I have some calming drought if you...”

But Jules leaned forward and kissed him, cutting him off.

Harry had thought he was used to Jules's kisses. She kissed to wake up or to go to bed. She kissed for fun, to show her affection. This was something else. It was a needy kiss, full of a sort of desperate pleading.

He loved her, so he answered it, kissing back, trying to say with the movement of his lips that he was there for her, that she was family now. He wasn't totally sure when that had happened, but somewhere along the way, it had. It was before the accident too. Jules was in under his defenses. So Harry kissed her hard, opening himself into it, pulling her to him until Jules's long frame was pressed right on him, her breasts against his chest and her hands gripping his shoulders.

It was as Jules pulled her questing tongue away from his lips to trace a path from his earlobe down his neck that he realized with a jolt that he was aroused and that she was asking for something they had never shared before, not this way.

“Jules,” he said, hesitant. There were no rules for this.

“It's okay,” she said. Then, as she repeated herself, he heard the pleading in her voice that she never had. Jules ordered people about and brashly did things. She didn't beg. “It's okay,” she said, her voice cracking, trying to convince herself as much as anything.

“Of course,” Harry said. “Yeah, it's okay.”

And it was. It would be. Ginny wasn't there, but she loved them both. It really was going to be all right.

“Not here,” Harry said. “Come on inside, right?”

As she stood, he could tell that something about the prosthetics was bothering her, maybe even giving her pain. Jamie had been really helpful, getting the charms right on the muggle manufactured legs. The illusion charms were easy enough, but the attachment charms were harder.

As soon as they got to the little bedroom off the patio, Harry surprised himself with his own forcefulness. He lifted Jules to the bed and pressed her down, kissing her once on the lips, but then immediately moving down. When he got to where the bare skin of her thighs emerged from her shorts, he leaned into the inside of her thigh and kissed, then sucked until he was sure he'd left a mark, flushing the skin with little broken vessels spreading red around.

“Undo the charms,” he said. He didn't look up, but refocused his attention on her middle. She was thinner than Ginny, and softer than his wife's muscled core from her continued years of quidditch. Even when it was only playing for fun, Ginny had never been able to get off her broom except to have the kids. He pushed her black T-shirt up and laid small kisses and tiny nips along her belly and sides then down to her hips, sliding her shorts down slightly to reveal men's boxers.

He felt the moment her prosthetics detached and felt the resultant looseness in her muscles. He pulled the shorts all the way off and carefully put the magical legs aside next to the bed, then took some time to kiss at her knees and then below her knees, where the healers at St. Mungo's had stopped the curse from progressing into the rest of her body the only way they could figure out how. He remembered the terror on her face in the hospital and the guilt he had felt about how the cursed water she had waded into had happened on his watch, while she was still working with dark objects for the aurors.

But he knew Jules and knew that she didn't want the things he would have wanted in her place, to be told she was still desirable and beautiful and loved. Jules was all action. It was so out of character for him that he felt strange, but he also felt almost compelled.

Harry moved back up for another kiss, feeling Jules bite his lip and sink fingernails in his back. As he drew back, he flipped her over, easily and she moaned quietly.

“Is that all the noise you're going to make?” he teased her. “The other night you were pretty loud.”

He yanked the boxer shorts off as well, sliding them below her knees and casting them aside. Then, hoping against hope he was doing the right thing, he lifted her up so that she rested on her knees and plunged two fingers inside her.

This time she moaned louder and he knew he'd gotten it right, knowledge that sent a little shiver of thrill down his spine. This was all for Jules, but he was enjoying it too, aroused and hard. He felt the press of his erection against the tight jeans he had worn to the club. It was a nice, restricted feeling.

He ran his fingers in and out of her, feeling a burst of wetness as he did. He'd seen Jules naked many times and seen her and Ginny have sex dozens of times at least. She'd had her mouth on his cock, they'd both had fingers on each other's chests and arses. But he had never touched her quite this intimately. His fingers pulled out to rub back and forth from the hood of her clit down over the folds of her labia and then back inside, stroking her fast and smooth. The feel of her was different from Ginny. Her mound was unshaven and he felt her curls brush his hand as he moved his fingers over her. Her folds seemed more swollen, larger than Ginny's. His finger caught on a bit of extra skin. He rubbed then returned to her clit, listening as she moaned loudly.

“Harry,” she said.

“Yeah,” he said. “Yeah.”

He pushed her legs apart as he stood up to slide his jeans and pants off as fast as possible. Jules was still in her black T-shirt, the shaved bits next to her neck exposed as she loosely hung her head, pink fringe dangling to the bed. The shirt was rucked up to her breasts and hung down below her where she was positioned on her knees. She balanced without legs extended out. Harry was still in his button shirt, which he had zero intention of bothering to remove at this point.

He gave himself a stroke, feeling the joy of anticipation and trying not to think about how he was fifty and about to stick his cock in a woman who wasn't Ginny, the only woman he'd ever done this particular act with. But she was wet and wanting and moaning and he loved her and wanted her to feel that so much and knew Ginny would want that too.

Jules canted her hips and Harry lined up and sank inside her so quickly he felt surprised by the easy slide, wet and warm and perfect.

Jules groaned loudly and thrust her hips back, but from this position she didn't have the control, only Harry really did. He felt her tighten around him and loosen, but instead of shifting so that she could take control, he pressed her shoulder down and pushed inside her harder, holding up her hips with his other hand.

It was easy to manipulate her. She was so light. Jules gave another moan of happiness and squeezed him again so he thrust, trying to get a sense of rhythm. She squirmed. He pressed his body over her and sucked on her neck, leaving another mark.

“More,” she demanded.

Harry thrust harder, moving his hips fast and hard against her, feeling his cock's easy slide through her opening and trying to pound into her the best he could.

He raised himself up to his knees for a better angle, his hand brushing the side of her cheek as he planted it next to her face for support.

Jules grabbed his wrist and he found his thumb sucked into her mouth, her lips closing over it and sucking hard as he continued moving in and out of her, pushing her toward the edge.

Ginny liked to touch herself, the few times they had tried this position. In general she brought herself off on him or let him bring her off with fingers and tongue. She liked the sensation of his cock inside her, but it didn't make her orgasm. But Jules was so prostrate below him. He felt he was supposed to do this for her.

Balancing and trying to keep his pace the best he could, Harry reached around Jules's hip with one hand and felt for where they were joined. He could feel his own cock as he moved in and out of her. Then he moved up and found the tip of her clit, still wet and swollen. He rubbed it awkwardly from his position.

It was enough. Jules screamed even as she sucked his thumb and he felt her muscles clamp down on him fast and hard.

The noises, the knowledge that he had done this to her, the pressure on his cock, and he was groaning and crying out as well, his hips now thrusting in their own uncontrollable, erratic rhythm.

They couldn't hold the position comfortably, so Harry pulled out, his erection quickly fading. Jules flipped herself over and stretched her back. He felt exhausted and threw himself backward, his head back on the pillow, staring at the ceiling. Merlin's beard. What the hell had just happened?

Jules began to laugh, a sort of happy giggle that might have sounded malicious if he didn't know her so well.

“That position was not good for my back,” she accused, stretching.

“Ugh. You got off, didn't you? Give me a minute to recover and I'll massage your legs. Or find a potion. Potions, definitely a potion.” All his energy was gone.

“Oh, I got off,” she said, the laughter back in her voice.

“What?”

“I made Harry top.”

“Shut up.”

“You shut up.”

“No, you… Ugh. Jules!”

She hit him in the face with a pillow.

“Are you five or fifty?” he demanded, pushing it out of the way.

“I think that's pretty obvious.” Jules laughed, loud and cheerful.

Harry turned on his side. “How bad do you hurt?”

She grimaced, her face going serious. “It's not so bad. I'm just sore. I may have had one leg a bit wrong. The charms can interfere so I don't realize until I've gone all day a bit lopsided and then my back and hips are shit.”

For whatever reason, Harry couldn't help himself. “I love you, you know. You're still...”

“Shut up, Harry. Don't ruin it.”

“Yeah, fine. Getting you a few drops of that pain potion Jamie recommended.”

Harry forced himself up and pulled on his pajama bottoms, which looked ridiculous with his going out shirt, which was now wrinkled and messy. He left Jules in the bed and went to the bathroom to find the bag with all the potions.

Vial in hand, he went to the kitchen for some water and found Hermione sitting at the table reading.

“Sorry. Thought you'd be in bed,” he said.

“Hm. Someone was loud,” she said, not looking up from her book.

“Oh, Merlin,” Harry said, blushing. “Sorry about that. Er… we… Ugh. I should have cast a silencing spell. I just didn't think. We don't...” He trailed off, embarrassed and unsure of how to explain anything about the complexities of his relationship with Jules or his marriage to Hermione.

“It's all right, Harry,” she said. “Ron told me she was trying to wind me up the other day. I guess that was not for my benefit?”

“Er… no. More for hers.”

Hermione sighed. “She's not so bad, your Jules.”

“She said the same thing about you,” Harry said. “And she's not my Jules. More Ginny's… I mean...”

Hermione shut her book and looked at him. “Oh, I think the two of you are rather besotted. I'm glad to hear she no longer thinks I have a stick up my 'ass,' though I suspect it doesn't mean she won't continue to try and wind me up. I admit I was worried I'd see more vulgar pictures when I opened my book tonight.”

“Er… probably not,” Harry admitted. “Winding you up. She does it to me all the time. She used to delight in it when Ginny first… well.”

Hermione raised an eyebrow. “Everything's fine, then?”

Harry thought about the broom ride of a vacation they had just had. In two days, they'd be home. “Actually, everything is great.”

“Brilliant,” Hermione said, opening her book again. “I'm glad. Go take care of Julianna.”

Harry looked down at the vial in his hand. “Thanks, Hermione.”

Back in the room, Jules had managed to retrieve her boxers from the floor and was sitting on the edge of the bed, looking at her thighs. Harry put a couple of drops of the miracle potion on her tongue and then eased her back into bed as the magic made her loose and sleepy. She fell asleep on his chest, her fingers splayed on his arm.

It was as he drifted off, the evening running through his mind, that Harry realized that Jules was his as much as Ginny, something that had happened while he wasn't paying any attention. And that he was all right with that, even happy. All the ideas he'd had about family when he was younger and wanted so much to be normal, had been fine, but the reality he had built was slowly turning out a lot queerer than he'd ever thought he'd be comfortable with. And it was better even than anything he'd longed for when he was young.

Harry finally drifted off with his fingers running through Jules's pink tufts of hair on top of her head.


End file.
